Conversations
by Lavida Muertos
Summary: Because Izaya was like a book written in invisible ink, and Shizuo's the only one that can read him.  SLASH  Non-graphic mentions of non-con


**Title: Conversations**

**Author:Lavida Muertos**

**Word Count:1,025**

**Warnings: Mentions of non-con (nothing graphic). Also this is SLASH so no like=no read.**

****Disclaimer: I don't own anything. At all (like I'm a hobo).****

****A/N: I love you all. Tell me what you think, I could use the help improving. ****

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><p>Shizuo could always predict their fights by the first time Izaya said his name.<p>

If it was long and drawn out, then so to would be the fight.

If it was short, then so to would be the fight.

If it was sarcastic, then Izaya wanted to talk to him away from prying eyes.

If it was sweet, then Izaya wanted a beating.

If it was loud, he wanted a spectacle. A show to keep up appearances.

If it was quiet, he wanted an excuse. To be near Shizuo.

Shizuo could read the future in the depth and placement of every cut Izaya gave him, and Izaya could do the same by the force and speed of each punch Shizuo threw at him.

They never really fought, they talked. In a code no one else could understand. Because they couldn't let anyone find out. To tell the truth, they were scared. Scared of how their friends, how their _enemies_, would take the news. So they staged their fights carefully, to make sure they had just the right audience. It was a tiring game to play, but it would never end.

See, Shizuo was stubborn. And so was Izaya. Shizuo was protective. And so was Izaya. Shizuo didn't want Izaya to get hurt. And Izaya didn't want Shizuo to get hurt. So they were trapped in a loop. Neither one changing his mind. Because as Izaya put it on the night Shizuo was shot, 'I couldn't live without you, Idiot.' and although the words had never been spoken (for the fear of being overheard) they loved each other.

It was a painful romance. Each man still playing the part that was expected of him. Dying a little bit when they threw their cards onto the table and prayed that the other would make it into the next round. Because they're no more than imprisoned puppets in the show that is Ikubukuro.

And that's how Shizuo had grown to expect it. Because Izaya was like a book written in invisible ink, and Shizuo's the only one that can read him. So this wasn't something he'd expected to see today, because this was something that had never been written in the book before.

Because Shizuo was out with Tom, in the middle of Ikubukuro, surrounded by people. There were dozens of pairs of eyes watching him, for fear he'd snap and go on a wild rampage. It was the middle of the show, and Izaya didn't stick to the script.

It was a Friday, right after the high school kids had gotten out. There were people everywhere. Kids out for some fun, people heading home from work, the streets were the most crowded they'd been all week. And that's when he heard it.

'Shizuo.'

That was his first hint, because Izaya only called him that when they were at home, when Shizuo fell back to calling him Aya. He thought at first that he'd misheard. That there was no way that this broken, whispered voice belonged to his Aya. But then came the hand. A bloodied hand that caught his wrist and the whisper came again.

'Shizuo.'

That's when he finally turned to face the voice that he knew belonged to his lover. And for just a moment he wished that he hadn't. Because this _was_ his Aya, but at the same time it _wasn't_.

His head was covered by his fur-lined hood, his jacket zipped all the way up, with rips and cuts scattering his clothing, and blood dripping onto the street. And when Shizuo reached out to tilt up Izayas face, he ignored the complete silence that had spread around them, because he knew by the look in those once bright eyes. By the lifeless red eyes that stared up at him. And Shizuo knew. Izaya had been broken. The sparkle that had always been in Izayas eyes was gone. That was all it took. That look from Izaya that seemed to whisper, _I'm sorry. I've failed. I'm broken, dirty. I've ruined everything._

but at the same time, _Help_ _me_.

And like he always has, Shizuo understood Izayas silence.

So on Friday afternoon in the middle of Ikubukuro Shizuo Hewajima took Izaya Orihara into his arms with a gentleness no one had ever seen him display, and he carried him away from the curious gazes of the people that thought they knew them.

And Izaya curled his fists into Shizuos shirt that was slowly going red with Izayas blood, but Izaya refused to cry. It wasn't until they got to Shizuos apartment, until Shizuo had stripped Izaya of his dirty clothes and slowly wiped his skin clean that Izaya finally broke down. When he started crying and clutching at Shizuo whispering over and over,

'I'm sorry Shizuo. I'm dirty Shizuo. Please don't leave me Shizuo. I can't live without you Shizuo! Shizuo, Shizuo, ShizuoShizuoShizuoShizuo'.

And Shizuo pulled Izaya into his lap holding him like he'd crumble if he let go. Kissing him softly and

mumbling into his hair,

'I love you Aya. My Aya. I won't leave you, my love. My Aya.'

That's how they fell asleep. Surrounded by the dirtied cloth that lay witness to their pain.

The next morning seven dead men were found lined up outside a police station. Each with a letter carved onto his chest.

R-A-P-I-S-T-S

And the strongest man in Ikubukuro and the city's best informant went missing. No one knew where they went. Except for the two that helped them escape, because Shinra and Celty thought that the two men deserved a second try.

In a small village next to the ocean there are two new arrivals. There names are Shizuo and Izaya. They don't have last names, no matter what people say to them they always respond the same way,

'We left behind our names, because we're starting over.'

So after a time the people of the village just stopped asking and accepted the two. And there they stayed, because Shizuo and Aya had made it off the stage. The price may have been steep, but they had the rest of their lives to make up for it.


End file.
